Lunette rubbed the back of her hand. The broom handle would leave a mark. It didn’t seem broken, but it was her turn to serve supper, and by the time she was done with the stables, she wondered if she’d even be able to pick up a plate.
She thought of lining her sisters all up in a row, maybe along one of the fences where the horses were corralled, heads tied to the rails with the rough hemp rope they used for leading animals. She’d walk slowly down the line with an axe—no, a shovel. She’d wait until they’d all had a turn, all twenty-two of them, and then she’d go back. She imagined the sound of the metal spade swooshing down. She imagined their wails and it made her smile, made her hand hurt less.
It was only a flight of fancy, she knew. She wasn’t the biggest or the strongest of her siblings, and anyway, not even one of the great big knights who passed through from time to time could wrestle twenty-two of anyone at once.
As she swept around the stables, she came to the shelf where they kept the medicines for the horses. There were some for parasites, some for when they wouldn’t eat, some for helping the mares to foal. There was even one for when they needed them completely calm and immobile, to tend to a wound or a sprain without the horse kicking or fighting back.
She wondered how calm it might make a person. Maybe calm enough to stop moving, even if they wanted to. Maybe even calm enough to stop breathing.
Plutia would be helping her in the kitchen this evening, she thought. Lunette didn’t mind her as much as some of the others; in her fantasy, she never let Plutia suffer long. And the girl was strong for her size, which might come in handy.
Lunette continued with her sweeping, being careful not to drop the small glass phial tucked into her undergarments. She was looking forward to supper after all.
